


Camping

by thethingthathasnoname



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 08:59:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3113912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thethingthathasnoname/pseuds/thethingthathasnoname
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set on one of the Knight's of Camelot's camping trips. Lots of fluff and fun, and plenty of Merthur to go around. Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dinner!

The campfire was crackling away, the conversation was flowing… and the wine was too. For such a cold time of year, the atmosphere was relatively jovial and the party that had ended up camped out in the woods in the middle of winter was somehow managing to keep their spirits up. After all, it was only one night of discomfort compared to the rest of their lives sleeping in the luxurious beds bestowed to the Knights of Camelot. Well, apart from the residential man-servant, Merlin, to whom this night was nothing different to his sack of rags back home and was just slightly worse that his straw-lined, harsh, wooden bed at the castle. Not that he was sore about it or anything.

“ _Mer_ lin!” Arthur Pendragon, the future King of Camelot, and pompous cabbage-brain, called to the gallant man-servant. “ _Mer_ lin! Get me some more wine. And when will the food be ready?”

“Of course, sire.” Merlin appeared by his lordship’s needy, lazy side and poured out even more wine into his, seemingly bottomless, goblet. “And just as soon as I can get more than 5 minutes to sort it out before you order me to do something else…” he finished with his, only slightly sarcastic, pleasant smile.

“Well…” Arthur stuttered, at a loss to know what to say. “Hurry up.” He finished lamely.

Merlin did his, again only slightly sarcastic, head incline. He returned to the pot where he was brewing up a meal made only from the things he had foraged in this very forest… and yet that still didn’t seem to be enough for the clot-pole prince, oh no, he was always doing something wrong wasn’t he? ‘Do this Merlin, do that. Hurry up, would you?’ Merlin had to take a deep mental breath and calm himself before he exploded all over this dinner that he was so arduously preparing.

Eventually, Merlin felt his mental oven clock ding and removed the pot from the fire. He called over to the knights “Food’s ready!” and immediately heard the other conversation drop and all eyes on him as he brought it over. He laid it down on the flattest part of the ground near where they were seated on a circle of logs, and looked up for the bowls. Within a split-second the whole stack was passed to him by an eager hand. Glancing up, he thanked the assistant, although he guessed that their thanks were going to be more in the reward about to fill their stomach. However, he did notice that the dollop-head himself, that had nagged him and ordered him and hurried him along was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Arthur?” he asked, trying his best not to grit his teeth.

“Gone a little way out into the woods.” Came the reply from, Gwaine. “Either he needed to relieve himself or he needed a moment to sort out the latest events; it has been a pretty hectic day, even for him. Why? Does it matter? We don’t have to wait for him to eat do we?” His eyes widened in slight panic.

“No, no, I don’t think so. I was just wondering.” Merlin murmured, half in a daze of annoyance.

How dare he leave just when he knew that the food was about to be ready, and he had been bugging Merlin about it for the good part of the last half an hour. Did he not realise how irritating he had been? Did he not know how much his arrogant, expecting questions were belittling and getting to his might-as-well-be-a-slave ‘servant’?

Merlin was so caught up in his own indignation that he didn’t hear the ripples of mutters that passed through the knights whenever they noticed moments such as these coming from the servant or the prince. The whispers usually went along the lines of “There they go again, just like an old married couple.”

Meanwhile, Arthur returned from his small stroll into the woods, with a feeling of contentment that his brain had settled the events of today, just as the food was being dished out. He leant against a tree for a minute, just to observe the general situation. There was plenty of grub for everyone, extra for Arthur, he noticed, and little more than scraps for Merlin. As usual.

But as he watched Merlin spooning out the stew, something rather strange happened.

His eye happened to catch the way that the flickering light from the fire latched onto his cheekbones, pronouncing them, and defined his jaw-bone in a rather flattering way. He couldn’t help but notice his fringe brushing gently across his forehead or the way he would flick his head slightly to move it, naturally, out of habit. He found himself captivated by the gentle indentations upon his cheeks, where his smile was forming dimples on the smooth surface.

And, oh, that smile; practically gleaming teeth and those lusciously soft-looking lips. And just the way his whole face seemed to lift and clear when that smile happened to grace the world with its presence, if only for a couple of seconds. He wondered if he had ever been lucky enough to be the reason for that smile. He wished he had been.

And then, just as he was ogling, stuck in this limbo moment of awe, he saw Merlin’s head begin to move, begin to turn. And, by God, the way that his eyes were glinting and seeming to grin within themselves was quite too much for Arthur and he could barely restrain himself from doing… who-knows-what. But what he wasn’t counting on was the fact that the very eyes he had just been gazing at, where now locked straight with his.

There was a connection - like a bolt of electricity - that seemed to shoot between the two of them, jolting their brains and setting every one of their senses on fire. They were stuck, just locked in each other’s beings…

And then the other knights turned too, to see what Merlin was staring at and the moment was broken.

“Come on, Arthur,” “Where’ve you been?” “Took you long enough.” “You’re in luck; we’re just beginning to eat.”

The knights all beckoned him over, as though nothing had just happened, which, to them, it hadn’t. Still disorientated by the intensity of the last couple of seconds, Arthur somehow managed to stagger over and plant himself firmly down, coincidentally, right next to Merlin. He was handed his bowl and, absentmindedly, took a sip from his spoon, forgetting it was something that Merlin had concocted from the “fruits of the forest”, as he liked to call it. To his enormous surprise and relief, it actually tasted pretty good.

“Wow, Merlin!” he exclaimed. “This is actually decent!” The knights all laughed, reassured, and tucked in.

“Really?” Merlin replied, not so sure that he had done _that_ good a job.

“Yes, really. Here, try.” Arthur responded and, without thinking, got a spoonful and hand-fed it straight to Merlin’s mouth.

Merlin, surprised, nearly choked. He coughed but managed to sort his head out and actually taste the food. As Arthur had said, it was really pretty good.

“Mmm,” he agreed, appreciatively.

“For once, I must say, well done, Merlin. I’m very nearly bordering on the line of impressed!” Arthur exclaimed. “Here have some more.” And he fed Merlin another spoon.

This time, Merlin was much more prepared for it and so was able to happily take the spoon in his mouth and get the food without too much mishap, even managing a happy nod. Arthur grinned and carried on eating and Merlin couldn’t help but notice he had no quarrels eating from the spoon that Merlin himself had just salivated all over.

The knights were beside themselves; this was practically TV, just a few hundred centuries too early. What had begun as a simple lark - a running joke, if you will - of the fact that Merlin and Arthur were basically already married, was now becoming more and more plausible by the second.

Arthur was half way through his bowl and looked around, in preparation, for more, knowing that this wouldn’t be enough to satisfy his aching hunger. Merlin was slowly making his way through his, much smaller, plate and saw the way the prince was eyeing up his meal. Reluctantly, he offered some to him. Arthur studied it contemplatively – he was very hungry and he’d had an incredibly tiring day, and Merlin was ‘only a servant’, after all. He was on the verge of reaching out to take it, when he heard Merlin’s stomach rumble making the sound of a dying whale. Merlin immediately flushed bright red, almost matching his neckerchief, and mumbled something about him being cold.

Then something very strange happened.

Arthur was hungry. Merlin was evidently hungrier. Arthur had already eaten a fair amount. Merlin had had barely any. Arthur was the prince, soon to be king. Merlin was a servant, and that’s all he would ever be. And yet Arthur, whose hand was seemingly already poised to reach out and take the food, shook his head.

“No, it’s fine.” He refused gallantly. “You eat it.”

Merlin’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. Arthur blushed and felt the need to explain himself.

“I’ve already had lots of mine, this is yours. Plus, don’t think I haven’t noticed you giving me extra portions. And it seems like your stomach requires it more than mine.” He took another look at Merlin’s food. “In fact… is that all you’re eating?”

Merlin shrugged, confused.

“But that’s barely anything!” Arthur could almost have laughed. “Is that all you’ve ever given yourself on these trips?!”

Again, Merlin shrugged; a flush starting to powder his cheeks.

“Ok, come on, Merlin. We all know you’re small, but you’re not that small. You’re a growing boy, you need more than that.”

Merlin was on the point where I think you would class that as a blush.

“Here.” Arthur scraped a massive spoonful from his bowl and put it into Merlin’s. He did this again. Then, he fed one more spoonful directly to Merlin’s mouth and carried on with his, now considerably smaller, meal.

Merlin was definitely way beyond the blushing stage by now and teetering on the edge of… tomato. Silently, he continued through his food. He was so embarrassed and confused that he forgot to thank Arthur… or even give a witty remark.


	2. Night Knight

It was late at night and Arthur was staying awake to do the late night guard. He was feeling in a particularly valiant and, almost kind, mood, especially after the whole meal ordeal with Merlin. It was getting colder, but he was sitting only a few metres from the fire, covered by the finest blankets, so he was warm.

He sighed.

It had been a very eventful day. All the fighting. Yeh lots of fighting. You know, fighty-fighting. With many fighty events. And fighty… fighting. Yeh fighting. Focus on the fighting. Don’t let your mind wander to where it’s not allowed to go. Because it’s not allowed to go there. So it shouldn’t go there. Because it’s not allowed. SO WHY OH WHY IS IT GOING THERE?

He really shouldn’t being going there. But he really couldn’t help himself. And by _there_ , of course, he meant his blumber-brained manservant fool. The very blumber-brained manservant fool that had prepared an amazing meal. The very one indeed that Arthur had then fed said meal from his very spoon. And even had some of Arthur’s portions of this meal given to aforementioned blumber-brain… by Arthur himself… The blumber-brained manservant fool who had looked particularly not blumber-brained or manservanty or fooly when he had been sat by the fire not two hours previously. And the blumber-brained manservant fool that was lying, asleep, right next to Arthur at this very moment in time.

Arthur watched him. As he slept. In a completely-platonic-and-in-no-way-shape-or-form-creepy manner. At all. Ah, well. He had had a very tiring day. And he was very tired. He could hardly blame his drowsy self for doing stupid things, now, could he? So, in the fading firelight, Arthur let his gaze travel over Merlin’s face once again. He danced along the cheekbones and the jawline and the nose. He swept over the hair, caressing every strand in his mind, seeing how this one stuck up that way, or that one stuck up this way. He even lingered, almost tenderly, on the jug-like ears.

He stroked every inch of this ivory canvas with his eyes, letting them finally come to rest on the flickering eyelids. He knew what they concealed – the fiery pools of ice, so often marred with worry or pain. But sometimes, just sometimes, they lit up - like sunlit dawn bursting over the waves of an ocean – and portrayed hope or joy or, god forbid, love. And it was at these times that Arthur could feel his own face, his own smile, his own soul, glowing with life. And it was addictive. Like a drug. Happiness was a drug. Merlin was a drug. Merlin was _Arthur’s_ drug.

“Wait… WHAT?!” Arthur practically screeched.

Then realised that he had just spoken aloud and cursed under his breath. Some of the knights murmured or rolled over in their sleep but none awoke, thank the lord, and Arthur, chiding himself, relaxed a bit and allowed himself to think through what his semi-conscious mind had wandered to. Merlin. Being his shining orb of hope. Or something like that. He could most prominently remember him claiming Merlin was his drug. Pah. What tosh. He was just tired. That was all. Absolutely nothing more to it.

Then why did he have to keep fighting the urge to look at Merlin. To watch his beautiful, lazy slumber.

He wouldn’t. But he wanted to. But he wouldn’t. Because that was _weird._ So he wouldn’t. But, oh God, he wanted to. But…

One little look wouldn’t hurt, now, would it?

So, feeling like he was doing something incredibly naughty, he peeked at Merlin from under his eyelashes.

And then started, glancing away, when he realised that Merlin’s ‘fiery pools of ice’ – also known as his eyes – were staring right back at Arthur.

“Are you ok, sire?” Merlin whispered, lightly.

“Fine. Why wouldn’t I be ok?” Arthur responded far too quickly and heavily.

“You see a little… edgy.” Merlin raised his eyebrow.

“What are you talking about? I’m fine.” Arthur hissed.

“Sure… Whatever you say.” Merlin nodded slowly, voice coated in sarcasm.

“Shut up and go back to sleep.” Arthur glared.

“I was… until some crazy guy, who’s obviously not, you know, very all right in the head, started shouting.” Merlin dropped a cheeky wink.

“Sleep. Now.” Arthur commanded and growled when Merlin chuckled.

And his heart absolutely did not flutter at that one little, light-hearted giggle. Nope. Not at all. No fluttering here. Pah.

Arthur determinedly turned the other way. He would not look at Merlin. He would not think about Merlin. He would not even be aware of Merlin’s existence.

Maybe just one glance?

No, been there done that. No. No more glancing.

So Arthur sat for a few minutes, stonily staring the other way, thinking about everything _other_ than his annoying servant who shall not be named.

What a lovely night this is. Well, actually it’s very cold. But Arthur was by the fire so he was warm. Which made it a lovely night. But all the others… the knights. They weren’t by the fire. They must be cold. But they weren’t sitting up keeping watch. They weren’t awake. Except… NOPE. Not allowed to think about _that_.

It had been a good day. Lots of good fighting. They had done well. And then the walk was fine, they had horses. And this camping spot was decent. And there was a river nearby. And dinner had been good. Dinner cooked by… NOPE.

Ermm… Arthur couldn’t wait to get home. Yes, home. To warmth and comfort and all things normal. Where a certain manservant… (NOPE Arthur’s brain tried to scream, but Arthur couldn’t stop)… a certain manservant… slept right over at the other side of the castle… much further away from Arthur than he was now. He was far too close right now. That was why everything was going weird. Arthur was tired and Merlin was just too close. That was it. Just that.

But how close actually was he? Arthur wondered. He was allowed to look to measure distance, right? Just to prove that Merlin was too close. Of course he was, no one was going to stop him; he was the prince!

So, Arthur determinedly, spun back around, forcing his gaze to the ground between him and Merlin. He tilted his head trying to measure it, but just as he was focusing, a movement in his peripheral vision caught his eye and his head automatically darted up to look at it.

And, of course, it just _had_ to be Merlin moving in his sleep. Moving to pull his thin blanket tighter around him. No… not in his sleep. Because Arthur could just about detect two small glints of beady eyes reflecting the firelight through the dark.

“Merlin.” He hissed, just to check.

“Yes?” came a hushed reply.

“Erm…” Arthur stumbled, realising he didn’t actually know what he intended to say after that. “Why are you still awake?” he decided on.

“To be honest, Arthur. It’s kind of… I mean… I’m just a little bit… cold.” Merlin admitted, stumbling over his words like he always did when he was embarrassed.

It was quite cute… wait, what?

‘Shut up, brain; you’re just tired,’ Arthur mentally told himself.

“Sorry…” Merlin added hurriedly, when Arthur didn’t reply. “I know there’s nothing you can do about it. I’ll just go back to sleep now.”

“No sorry. My sorry. I mean, I’m sorry.” Arthur quickly spoke. “I was just thinking.”

“About what?” asked Merlin innocently.

Arthur blushed, thankful for the dark. “Nothing.” He uttered way too quickly, then checked himself. “I mean, of ways to warm you up.” He could almost sense Merlin’s raised eyebrow.

“Come up with anything?” Merlin prompted after a pause. But Arthur’s mind was still envisaging Merlin’s face with that perfectly raised eyebrow.

Bumped into reality like this, he blurted “Yes.”

“Great!” Merlin grinned. Then waited.

There was a pause.

“What is it?” he pressed, expectantly.

“Oh. Erm.” Arthur froze. Ok, something to do with warmth from cold. He was warm. Why? Cos he was by the fire so… Merlin should be warm by the fire. “The fire.” Then he coughed and started again more eloquently. “The fire is warm so come by the fire and you’ll be warm.”

“There’s no room by the fire.” Merlin pointed out. “Trust me; I’ve been evaluating it for the last five minutes. Did you really think I hadn’t already thought of that?”

“I know…” Arthur protested. “I wasn’t done. Erm… the fire is warm and because I’ve been by the fire, I’m warm so…” he trailed off realising what exactly he had just suggested.

“So…? You’ll come and… warm me up?” Merlin checked hesitantly.

“Something like that.” Arthur nodded, face bright red. Ah well, it was too late to go back now.

There was another pause.

“So… I should probably move over to you now, shouldn’t I?” Arthur continued and slowly stood up. He made his way carefully over a couple of sleeping knights to get to Merlin’s huddled form. Sitting down next to it, he commanded “Give me your hand.”

Merlin obeyed, but the minute his cold flesh came into contact with the prince’s toasty skin, Arthur let out a surprised yelp.

“God, you’re really freezing!” he exclaimed, doing his best to be quiet, and without thinking, slid down to lie next to Merlin, encasing his smaller, and colder, body with his own.

He pulled the blanket over himself, and tugged his cape over the pair of them as well. Seemingly automatically, Merlin rolled over to face himself into Arthur, pressing his hands against the firm chest, and burrowing his head into the curve of the neck. Arthur shivered at the cold contact, but wrapped his arms around Merlin regardless.

Now, happily being heated through by Arthur, Merlin felt his tiredness wash over him, and let himself drift off back to sleep.

Arthur, on the other hand, really knew he ought to stay awake; he was on lookout-guard duty for God’s sakes. But he couldn’t move to wake one of the others up now. Not now he was so content and relaxed… and Merlin was adorable asleep on him. Plus he wasn’t feeling tired… nope… not at all…… hmmm…. It wouldn’t hurt to rest his eyelids just for a few minutes… would it? He was just… so… comfortable… Zzzzzzzz.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and hope you are enjoying!


	3. Morning!

“GOOD MORNING, LOVEBIRDS!” came Gwaine’s bellowing voice far too early the next morning.

Arthur tried to burrow back down into this surprisingly comfortable and surprisingly warm… nest of bedding that he appeared to have ended up in. He really should not have offered to take the late guard last night; he was exhausted. How do the others deal with this?

Wait… why was his bed moving? And had Gwaine said lovebirds?! With a start, Arthur jumped awake, flinging his eyes open, only to find another pair of eyes blinking right back. There was a second’s pause where Arthur’s memory of last night vaguely returned to him. And then simultaneously, he and Merlin were leaping apart from each other and staggering to their feet…

Only to find the entirety of the Knights of Camelot grinning back at them, with Gwaine right at the front bearing the happiest, cockiest smirk that you ever saw.

“Sleep well?” he asked them, suggestive subtext dripping from every syllable.

“Shut up.” Arthur huffed.

Merlin, on the other hand, started to try and explain. “It’s not what you think…” he started.

Gwaine just grinned impishly “So you two weren’t just sleeping in a ‘bed’ together? Phew… cos that would be weird.”

The pair flushed. Arthur growled “Merlin…” in his ear. “You’re just going to make it worse.”

“You think it can really get any worse?” Merlin shot right back.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure Gwaine can make it a hell of a lot worse…” Arthur pointed out.

“Just, stay and stand our ground, just for a bit.” Merlin pleaded. “Just to see?”

Arthur shook his head and turned to leave. On instinct, Merlin reached out and grabbed Arthur’s hand to stop him.

Arthur whirled around and there was a moment’s stillness where both of them looked at each other, then at their joined hands, and then back at each other.

Merlin had definitely just made it all a hell of a lot worse.

With a glare, Arthur pulled his hand away from Merlin’s and stormed over to the fire.

Merlin, redder than ever before, slowly returned to face the knights, whose smiles were now beaming across the entire campsite.

“So… it’s not what we’re thinking, right?” Gwaine mocked. “I’m sure there’s a very logical explanation for this.”

Merlin nodded but fumbled over his words.

“How about you start by ‘explaining’ the whole bed scenario.” Gwaine prompted.

“Er… yes… last night… I was… cold.” Merlin attempted. Gwaine raised an eyebrow but said nothing. “And so… Arthur, kind of… was warming me up…”

“Oh I bet he was.” Gwaine winked, apparently simply unable to restrain himself. A chuckle rumbled through the knights.

“But I guess we just fell asleep.” Merlin finished lamely.

“Makes sense, but very vague, I mean… how exactly was Arthur warming you up?” Gwaine teased, cheekily.

“Well he was warm from being by the fire so he just sort of…”

“Wrapped his warm, muscular body around your freezing, little frame?” Gwaine declared dramatically.

Merlin sighed. “Pretty much, I guess.” All the knights whooped and jeered, lovingly.

“And the hand holding?” Gwaine prompted.

“He was leaving… I had to stop him.” Merlin objected.

“By holding his hand?”

“I guess…”

“Could you not have just called after him, or grabbed his arm, or walked around him to stop him?” Gwaine pushed, circling Merlin greedily.

“Maybe… I don’t know.” Merlin shrugged, confused, trying to follow Gwaine with his head.

“So what you’re saying is… there was no real reason or explanation for the hand holding?” Gwaine stopped right in front of Merlin’s face.

There was a pause where Merlin tried to figure out what to say in response to this. Because now that Gwaine put it like that, there wasn’t really…

“You’d be very good in court, has anyone ever told you that?” Merlin tried to change the topic.

“Many a time. Must be my natural wit and charm.” Gwaine flicked his hair pompously.

“Or maybe just your pushy arrogance.” Merlin suggested.

“Hey now. No need to be jealous and rude. Just because I’m right and you’re wrong.” Gwaine slung his arm around Merlin’s neck. “It’s ok, darling. We’re all friends here. You can tell us anything.”

“Nothing to tell, I’m afraid.” Merlin laughed offhandedly, and ducked out from under Gwaine’s arm.

“Sure, sure.” Gwaine started, but Merlin quickly cut him off.

“I’m thinking breakfast time?” Merlin suggested, and watched the knight’s internal struggles between food and teasing Merlin and Arthur some more.

“I am quite hungry.” Percival nodded eventually.

And all of a sudden, all the knights were cheering in agreement, acknowledging their hunger.

Merlin turned to go. “Right then, breakfast.”

But just as he was walking away Gwaine whizzed by him, and as he passed, he whispered “This isn’t over.” Then dropped a fleeting wink and lasting smirk and drifted off.

Merlin sighed, in a loving way. The knights were good fun, especially Gwaine, but sometimes they took things a little far. Arthur was obviously getting quite affected by this particular joke. Merlin watched him, as he concocted breakfast. In a completely-platonic-and-in-no-way-shape-or-form-creepy manner. Just watching. Watching the way that Arthur just seemed to sit in a daze half the time, and the other half actually try and pack up, but his mind was obviously too preoccupied. Merlin wished that he would talk to him.

Then he blinked, realising that someone else was watching _him,_ watching Arthur, and, glancing to his left, caught eyes with Gwaine, who gave him a knowing look, eyebrows raised, before turning back to his bedding.

Merlin groaned, and focused on making breakfast, refusing to let himself even look at Arthur for the rest of the day.

Ok, maybe not the whole day... But… the morning. Breakfast. Yeah. For the rest of breakfast.

Then, Arthur coughed, and Merlin glanced up, concerned. Their eyes met and rested for milliseconds that felt like hours, before they simultaneously spun away, unwilling to make cause for more rumours.

Well, Merlin internally sighed, looks like that failed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet again, thanks for reading and hope you are enjoying! All the comments and kudos feedback is wonderful thankyou so much :)


	4. It's A Dare.

They made it home later that day, tired and bedraggled, but heroic and happy. Arthur spent the next few hours relaying everything that had happened to his father, whilst trying his very hardest not to fall asleep… or gaze at Merlin across the room. Both of which he was finding surprisingly difficult.

Merlin was hovering around the meeting as usual, providing things when needed. But he couldn’t help his eyes being drawn to Arthur every few minutes. He tried to convince himself it was because he was worried for the prince; he must be so tired from taking the late night watch. But he was pretty sure there was something more to it than that. Something about the way that his deep eyes seemed to shine with a new light. And the chiselled face seemed to hold something stronger to it now. It was entrancing…

Pah, Merlin shook his head briskly. He was probably the tired one here.

Finally, the meeting was over, the King was satisfied, and Arthur, Merlin and the knights were free to leave, which they did so quickly, eager to kick back and relax after all the fighting and the meetings and the travelling. And what better place was there to do so than the tavern?

The rowdy lot burst in through the wooden doors just as nightfall came.

“Prepare your best table, bring you best booze and ready your best ladies,” Gwaine announced, laughing as he spearheaded the group. “For we are the Knights of Camelot. And we are ready to party!”

There were various shouts from around the group, and Arthur and Merlin couldn’t help but cheer along. The evening started off great. Plenty of merriment and mirth, jokes shared and wine drunk. But, try as they might, neither Merlin nor Arthur could stay away from each other, or stop sharing eye contact, physical contact, inside jokes, everything and anything that set them apart from the rest of the group. And every time this happened, the knights became beside themselves with glee. So then they’d try and stay away from each other, but within a few minutes, something would have happened to set them off again.

A few more drinks, and a lot more laughter later, the pair had finally relaxed enough to have a properly good time. Merlin was even cracking jokes, something that only happened when he was rather drunk. He was halfway through the particularly hilarious tale of Arthur and his belt, when he noticed a friend standing alone in the middle of the pub.

Momentarily forgetting his story, he wandered over to him, calling out a greeting. “Henry!”

The man spun around in surprise. “Merlin!” he exclaimed once he realised who it was.

“How have you been?” Merlin responded wrapping his arms around Henry fondly.

“I’ve been good, and yourself?”

“Oh, just wonderful.” Merlin wrinkled his nose sarcastically. “You still in carpentry?”

“Yep, what are you doing now? I heard you were a Physician’s Apprentice, good on you.” Henry clapped his shoulder friendlily.

“Yes. Still doing that. But also ended up servant to Prince Arthur, would you believe?” Merlin chuckled.

“How much have you had tonight, Merlin?” Henry looked at him suspiciously.

“Not much. Well, a fair amount. But I’m serious! Look, he’s just over there with the Knights of Camelot.” Merlin raised his arm in a lazy wave. Gwaine beckoned them over but Merlin shook his head. He really didn’t want to scare Henry off by introducing him to Arthur and Gwaine and everyone. And Arthur was looking particularly stony all of a sudden. His eyes were set harshly on the table, but as Merlin watched, his head shot up to glance over this way, before hurriedly returning to burning through the jug in front of him.

“Is that the Prince?” Henry stared, surprised.

“Yep. And he doesn’t look too happy. But then again, what’s changed?” Merlin laughed. “I should probably get back to him.”

But even as he spoke, he noticed Arthur standing from the table and making his way over.

“Oh God.” Henry fidgeted uncomfortably. “That’s the Prince. Do I look presentable?” Henry fussed.

“You look dashing as ever.” Merlin winked, sense clouded by the alcohol in his brain.

“And what’s going on here?” Arthur asked grumpily.

“Arthur!” Merlin grinned. “This is my good friend Henry, who also moved here from Ealdor, just like me!”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lord.” Henry inclined his head and extended his hand.

Arthur made no move to shake it but Merlin stared him down, emphatically, until he conceded.

“And you.” Arthur returned bleakly.

There was an awkward pause.

Merlin, sensing the tension, cut in chirpily. “Henry, do you remember when…”

“I’m sure this would be a fascinating story, Merlin, but shouldn’t you let ‘Henry’ get back to his own friends?” Arthur suggested sharply, making it sound more like a command.

“Oh, no, that’s fine, I don’t actually…” Henry began but was silenced by a glare from Arthur.

“And you can come back to your friends, Merlin.” Arthur finished, still staring at Henry, as though putting him down, but pretending to talk to Merlin.

Merlin shrugged apologetically at Henry. “It was nice to see you. Catch up another time…” Merlin leant closer and muttered. “When I haven’t got the Prince from hell with me.”

Henry laughed and nodded and shuffled off. Merlin turned to walk back to the table of knights - who were all curiously watching them - but found his way blocked by Arthur.

“Who was that?” Arthur demanded.

“I told you… Henry’s a friend from…”

“Oh… just a friend?” Arthur questioned, haughtily.

“Yes… why?” Merlin asked, confused.

“Oh, nothing, I’m sure you’re the very best of buddies with all your little Ealdor mates and go and have a good laugh about big, bad Camelot in your funny, little huts…” Arthur ranted.

“What’s your problem?” Merlin huffed, and tried to push past Arthur.

Arthur, however, was having none of this, and so grabbed Merlin, spun him and shoved him up against the nearest pillar, pinning his hands above his head so he couldn’t escape.

“Arthur… what?”

“What were you talking about? What was with all the laughing and touching and jokes… and… and general friendliness?” Arthur pushed.

“Nothing… I mean, nothing in particular… we were just…” Merlin stuttered. Then broke off and stared at Arthur. There was a pause. Then. “You’re jealous.” Merlin’s eyes widened in realisation.

“What?” Arthur blinked, irritated and confused.

Merlin started to laugh. “You’re jealous! You, Arthur Pendragon, Prince of Camelot and future King, are jealous!”

“What? No I’m not… Pah… as if.” Arthur protested.

“Then explain this.” Merlin raised his eyebrow, indicating the situation Arthur had caused, glad to be the one with the upper hand for once.

“This? This is nothing. This is just…” Arthur mumbled, letting go and stepping back.

“Sure.” Merlin winked, and then, before Arthur could stop him, he darted around him and sauntered back towards the table.

“You’re looking very pleased with yourself, young boy.” Gwaine noted when Merlin reached them. “What could have possibly given such an innocent mind such joy?” he teased.

“Oh, reconnecting with an old friend.” Merlin wafted vaguely. Arthur slid onto the seat next to him, giving him a death stare. Which only convinced Merlin to say it more. “And the fact that Arthur’s completely…”

He was cut off by a strong hand gripping over his mouth. He managed to turn his head enough to see that it was Arthur’s, although he already suspected as much. He tried to mumble through the fingers, but the word couldn’t form properly.

“Arthur’s what?” Gwaine prompted.

Merlin struggled with Arthur for a few seconds, before eventually resorting to the age old tactic of licking. He stuck his tongue out and wiggled it. Arthur tensed up, before ripping his hand away.

“Urgh! Merlin!” he exclaimed.

“Jealous.” Merlin finally managed to get out. “Arthur’s jealous.”

“Oh really?” Gwaine sniggered, leaning forward, intrigued.

“Of course not; it’s just Merlin wishful thinking.” Arthur interjected.

“Of course, my lord.” Gwaine raised an eyebrow and looked the pair up and down pointedly. Arthur’s hands had wrapped themselves, one around Merlin’s waist to pull him closer on the bench, and the other, previously around his face, had come to rest on his chest.

They moved themselves apart.

“Yes. Of course. Right. What now?” Arthur steered the conversation.

“Don’t you try and change the topic, my friend.” Gwaine shook his head, slowly and playfully patronising. “I know what you’re doing.”

“There’s nothing else to say on this matter.” Arthur stated.

“Oh but there is. There’s so much.” Gwaine persisted. “Would you like it in a list? I can make a list.” He ignored them as they tried to speak, instead powering over them. “1: The little looks and stares. 2: The little touches. 3: The not so little, more like prolonged and everlasting, desperate gazing – which I noticed happening the whole way through that meeting just then, by the way, don’t think I didn’t. 4: The, again, not so little, strokes and grabs and holding. 5: The inside jokes and teasing. 6: The feeding straight into his mouth and then eating off the same spoon – there is literally nothing I don’t see. 7: The sleeping together. 8: The hand holding. 9: The jealously and general protectiveness you have over each other the entire time. And 10: You two… in general… just… everything.” He finished with a flourish, slamming his hands down on the table in triumph. The other knights applauded wildly. “Now try and tell me there’s nothing going on between you.”

Arthur and Merlin looked at each, at how closely they were sitting, at how their feet were almost touching, at how their hands were hovering nearby. Simultaneously, they tried to subtly slide away from each other.

“There’s nothing going on between us.” They uttered in synchronisation. Then glared at the other one for being so… together.

“See? See?!” Gwaine practically exploded. “You’re so… perfect for each other. You do everything at the same time, in the same way! Don’t think I didn’t see that little slide, as well.”

The pair rolled their eyes… at the same time.

“There… see! You both rolled your eyes!” Gwaine fumbled.

“And? That doesn’t mean anything.” Arthur pointed out.

“Exactly.” Merlin nodded.

“Ok. Ok. Fine.” Gwaine receded and the pair breathed a sigh of relief. Simulatenously, of course.

“Thank you!” Arthur exclaimed.

“At last!” Merlin agreed.

“If there really is nothing going on between you…” Gwaine continued. “Then I dare you to kiss.”

“What?” they protested.

“Well, if there really is nothing going on, then you guys shouldn’t care about kissing. If it really doesn’t mean anything.”

“It doesn’t, because there isn’t, but I’m not going to kiss him.” Merlin objected.

There was a moment’s silence. Everyone looked expectantly at Arthur.

“Come on then, Merlin.” Arthur sighed, standing up.

“What?” Merlin hissed. “You can’t seriously be considering this.”

Arthur grabbed Merlin by the arm and hauled him up, so that they were standing face to face.

“I feel like one of my fantasies is finally coming true.” Gwaine giggled. “Turn so that we can see you fully. And it has to be a proper kiss, not just some cowardly, girly peck.” He instructed.

“Merlin…” Arthur hissed when Merlin resisted. “It’s a dare.”

“And?” Merlin shrugged and tried to pull away.

“He’s daring us. You can’t back down from a dare.” Arthur forced, stepping towards him.

“Yes, you can.” Merlin stepped back.

“Not in the knighthood.” Another step forwards.

“But you’re the Prince, you’re the leader.” Another step back. Oh dear. Pillar.

“Doesn’t really mean much off the battlefield. Plus if we don’t, they’re just going to keep saying that we have something going on and that we’re madly in love… or something.” Arthur pointed out, continuing to step forwards so Merlin was trapped by the pillar.

“But… but… but…” Merlin complained.

“Merlin… don’t make me look bad.” Arthur warned, positioning his arms either side of Merlin’s head to stop him from escaping.

“Fine.” Merlin sighed.

Then they realised the position they had ended up in and Arthur awkwardly put his arms down.

“You alright there, lovers?” Gwaine prompted. “Or should we give you a minute?”

“It’s fine.” Arthur insisted.

“So what do we do?” Merlin panicked.

“We kiss… please tell me you’ve done this before.”

“Yes but not on command!”

“Just… Shut up, Merlin.” Arthur commanded.

Then he took a deep breath, and took Merlin’s face in his hands. Well, here goes nothing, he thought, and leant in.

Their lips touched. Only lightly at first, a hesitant brushing of skin to skin, lip to lip.

“A proper kiss.” Gwaine was shouting somewhere in the far off distance.

But he didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Not now.

Arthur, realising he was probably in charge here, pressed their mouths further onto each other. Merlin’s breath hitched, involuntarily; he hadn’t expected Arthur’s lips to be this soft.

Somewhere in the background there was cheering and whooping.

Arthur had a vague feeling that he should be stopping this some time soon. But he didn’t want to. He wanted more. He needed more.

Impulsively, he pulled Merlin closer, grabbing him round his waist and tugging him flush against his body. Merlin automatically wrapped his arms around Arthur’s neck, fingers sliding into his plush, blonde hair. Their lips started properly working, fitting together perfectly, grinding in a faultless friction, casting their minds into a blissful blankness apart from this. Arthur tugged at Merlin’s bottom lip with his teeth, eliciting a moan from Merlin. This was all too much for Arthur, who began clawing at Merlin’s hips, pulling him in, pulling him closer, pushing him up against the pillar behind him. Merlin’s fingers were running along the sculpted jawline, teasing their faces closer and closer…

Someone coughed. Loudly.

The pair tore themselves apart, landing back in reality, and jumping, startled.

Arthur took a step back, Merlin tried to, but realised he was against a pillar, and instead just stumbled clumsily.

They looked at each other, awkwardly, both blushing bright red. Then, slowly, they turned to look at the gobsmacked faces of the knights.

They were just sitting there, staring. They had not really been expecting that.

Finally, Gwaine managed to recover enough to say “So… nothing happening between you: my arse.”

Everyone laughed, and that seemed to break the spell. Still in a slight state of shock, Merlin and Arthur sat down, instantly greeted by many people trying to clap them on the back and congratulate them.

“Now, I don’t mean to say I told you so…” Gwaine began. “But I did tell you so.”

“I’m pleased for you guys.” Percival added.

“Like an old married couple.” Leon grinned.

“To Merlin and Arthur!” somebody raised a glass and suddenly everyone was chanting their names.

More congratulations and comments washed over the group, and slowly they became more comfortable, and even tired, of this topic of conversation, and so life moved on.

But Arthur gently took Merlin’s hand under the table, squeezing it as if to say

‘ _I’m never going to let you go now_.’

And Merlin squeezed in return.

‘ _I wouldn’t let you if you tried_.’

They caught eyes with Gwaine across the table, and slightly inclined their heads: ‘ _Thank you’_.

He winked right back: ‘ _You’re so very welcome._ ’

And that was that.

And that was good enough for them.

And that was perfect.

Forever perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Sorry for keeping on saying that! You're feedback is much appreciated; thank you so much for everything so far :) If anybody has any prompts, Merthur or otherwise (I'm feeling Johnlock, Malec, Phan and Merthur right now), let me know and i'll try and do them if I can. :) Special thanks and love to my fabulous DreamCatcher who is so encouraging and lovely and has GCSEs this week; this is for you DreamCatcher. Thanks for everything!

**Author's Note:**

> More chapters to come! Hope you are enjoying so far!


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